


Anchors in Strange Harbors

by thedropoutandthejunkie (elenajames)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Healing, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-15 22:53:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9261722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenajames/pseuds/thedropoutandthejunkie
Summary: Kevin's struggling after being pulled from the veil.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zzzett](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zzzett/gifts).



Kevin’s resurrection is far from perfect. Bringing someone back from heaven or hell is tricky enough, but a rogue spirit lost in the veil? Cas and Gadreel tentatively work together to bring the prophet back, but the side effects are evident from the start. Kevin’s distant for the nearly two weeks, drifting off for minutes or even hours at a time. He mutters about the spirits wandering near them, about the blurriness of the veil. 

 

Gadreel finds him like that, staring blankly across the library with his forgotten laptop and books spread out before him. Gently, he reaches out to touch, jumping when a spark of grace flashes between himself and the prophet. Even as he watches, Kevin comes back to himself, looking surprised at the casual contact, but not pulling away. 

 

“I did it again, didn’t I?” 

 

The bitter tone makes Gadreel wince. “You did. You are not yet well, Kevin. There’s no shame in your affliction.” 

 

“Doesn’t mean I don’t hate it,” the prophet admits softly. The soft frown on his face deepens when Gadreel starts to pull away, and they both blink in confusion when Kevin’s hand whips out to latch on to the angel’s. “Sorry, you’re just - Things are clearer if I’m touching you.” 

 

Together, they test it out, Kevin feeling his world shifting out of focus every time Gadreel moves away. Distance is tolerable, of course. “But it’s kinda like wearing old glasses. Alright, but blurry and gives you a headache,” Kevin tries to explain when they bring the brothers in on it. Sam sees to get it while Dean just looks wary, but in the end Cas wins them over. 

 

“Proximity to grace may be healing the gap between body and soul,” he says quietly, fingers drifting toward the faint scar on his throat. That his own, stolen grace has no effect on Kevin speaks for itself. 

 

“Perhaps, it would be best for the two of us to spend more time together.” 

 

Gadreel’s offer is tentative as is Kevin’s agreement to it; regardless, the find themselves researching together, sitting on the same side of the table at meals, sharing a couch on movie nights. Kevin gets better as every day passes, his focus clearly coming back online and Gadreel - well. Gadreel can’t say that anything described as falling will ever be pleasant. 

 

Falling for Kevin certainly isn’t. 

 

Despite the months they’ve spent together, despite successes in research, and providing backup for the other men on hunts, Gadreel remains the least trusted resident of the bunker. Not, of course, that he can blame them. Not a one of them  has reason to forgive or trust, nevermind allowing him to stay here, in their home. Still, it’s a burden that weighs more heavily on him as he finds himself wishing that Kevin would seek out his presence, his touch, out of want instead of necessity. 

 

“Gadreel?” Kevin’s questioning tone drags the angel out of his pensive repose. “You okay?” 

 

“Fine. I was merely thinking. What was the question?” 

 

The prophet shoots him a look askance, gaze too-knowing for someone so young, but he allows the angel’s slip to slide, pointing out the passage he’d been going over and asking his question again. Translations are slow, even with Gadreel’s vast knowledge of language; the Word of his Father was only ever meant to be read by prophets, Metatron, and Father himself. It feels near-blasphemous every time Gadreel touches the Word or when he pens out a newly-translated line out onto plain, lined paper. Kevin, however, delights in it, and it’s one of those moments when the young man catches Gadreel out. 

 

With dismay, Gadreel watches as Kevin’s pleased smile and light laugh fades away into a curious but wary expression. 

 

“Gadreel? You . . . You watch me. A lot.” 

 

“My apologies. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” There isn’t enough knowledge about human expression in Gadreel’s mind to make sense of what the look on Kevin’s face means, but the intensity is enough to make his heart beat faster as the young man steps around the table. 

 

“Tell me if I’m wrong?” Bracing himself on Gadreel’s shoulder, Kevin leans in to brush their mouths together, and Gadreel can feel the way the prophet’s breath stutters as the contact. 

 

“You’re not wrong,” Gadreel breathes back, hardly daring to move; it wouldn’t be the first pleasant dream he’d woken up from only to find himself cold and alone. Kevin dips closer to press their lips more firmly together; a simple kiss, but a sweet one, and more than Gadreel had ever truly expected to get. 

 

“You can’t,” the angel whispers when the break apart. “You can’t want this.” 

 

“I can. I do, I think. And so do you. But slow, alright? We’re not exactly . . . off to the best start, here,” Kevin says with a self-deprecating smile. He touches Gadreel’s cheek, dancing his fingers along the line of cheekbone and the faint hint of a five o’clock shadow. 

 

“Yes. Slow. Just - tell me what I need to do?” Gadreel tries not to let his sudden panic show, but some of it must peek through as Kevin cups his cheek again. 

 

“Right. Angels, probably not big on dating, huh?” 

 

“No.” A blush heats Gadreel’s cheeks, but Kevin doesn’t seem to mind. One last kiss, and they go back to finishing the night’s section, trading shy smiles over the tabletop as they pass books back and forth or point out passages of reading to one another. 

 

“Watch a movie with me?” Kevin asks when they’ve tucked their work away, marking all the relevant pieces so they can easily pick back up tomorrow. It’s risky, maybe, taking this to the busier living room area, but Kevin shows little hesitance in pushing a DVD into the player and wrangling Gadreel onto the good couch. 

 

It’s easy, closeness old hat for them by now, but Gadreel finds that Kevin pulls him closer, encourages him to touch more until they’re hip to hip with Gadreel’s arm around the prophet and their fingers tangled together in their laps. They’re comfortable, cozy, and Gadreel finds that some of his want is already soothed by what had been lacking for him so far: Kevin touching him back. 


End file.
